After three months on the boat, I am suddenly at 5,000 feet, and sea sick. Or more likely, homesick for the sea.
My bed doesn't move. Who can sleep like that?
My house doesn't suddenly start pitching in the middle of the night. Where's the fun in that?
I can put toilet paper in the toilet, use all the water I want, someone actually picks up the trash, I have a telephone, TV, and a dishwasher. Where's the adventure?
Let's face it, I am not meant to be a Cruiser Living On Dirt.
I write better on the boat, and that is a fact. Well, maybe not better, but more.
My thought for the day? I am probably more Hetta Coffey than Jinx Schwartz. How scary is that?